


Reflections

by RedFox13



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Fluff, Nk being a cinnamon roll, One Shot, Ornstein being sad, Rubbish ahead, Scars, Short Story, TLC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:14:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26487025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFox13/pseuds/RedFox13
Summary: Every scar tells a story, and some stories are best forgotten.
Relationships: Lord Gwyn's Firstborn & Dragon Slayer Ornstein
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Reflections

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tarori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarori/gifts).



Farram sat quietly against the base of a tall tree, it's spidering branches swaying in the gentle breeze. The sky above was pale blue, the clouds were pink as they reflected the light of the setting sun. The god let his eyes wander along the moss covered ground occasionally stopping at one of the tiny luminous flowers that dotted the forest floor. It had been a long journey and there was still a half day's walk to Anor Londo. But for now he and his knight would take a much needed rest before pressing on.

Just behind him he could hear the gentle lapping of water against stone. It was a stroke of luck that they had found a small lake just a ways from the roadside, it had been quite hot for the past several days and their canteens were nearly empty. Looking over his shoulder he saw Ornstein sitting at the edge of the water with his partly burnt tunic and a pile of bloodied gauze bandages by his feet. Their last battle had not been easy, and the knight had not gotten away unscathed.

Ornstein gazed down into the crystal clear water, his reflection staring back with disgust and shame. A fresh gash still bloody and raw ran across his left eye and down his cheek. This one would likely scar just like all the others. His eyes wandered down to the mottled red patches and jagged lines on his chest and shoulders. His fingers absently traced along his old wounds, his mind wading through the memories that came with them.

He hated the dragons with a passion, as a child they destroyed his home, murdered his family. Later in life they killed many of his friends, they tried to kill him. They were long gone now, but they left their legacy behind with claws and flames. A legacy and he would be cursed with as long as he lived. He didn't just see them as wounds, they were reminders of his failures.

The lion knight glanced over as Farram approached and sat quietly next to him. His expression was one of concern, a silent question was written on his face. One that he didn't need to ask. "I hate them." Ornstein said quietly as his gaze went back to the gash over his eye. "Why is that?" Farram asked calmly.

A deep, tired sigh was Ornstein's only reply before falling silent again. He scowled as he tried to find the words to express what he was feeling. "Every time I see them they remind me of all the pain I've endured, of everyone I lost, my own foolishness, and the beasts that were the cause for my grief." Farram raised an eyebrow at this, "They remind you of your mistakes."

Ornstein winced slightly, not just because of the pain in his eye as he turned to look at his Lord, but by how clearly he read him. Farram turned to face him, his knight mirroring the gesture. Raising his hand he gently cupped Ornstein's cheek, his thumb softly running over the bone so it didn't agitate his injury. The warmth of his skin felt soothing, almost unconsciously Ornstein leaned into his touch. Farram made an amused sound as his gaze softened, his golden aura began to shine as the last light of day faded away.

"I find your scars beautiful." He whispered. "Why?" Ornstein stared at him in confusion. "Because despite the challenges set before you, you endured. Every scar tells a story, and some stories are best forgotten. But still they are a part of your story and what made you who you are. They are a reminder that you are strong, that you survived and left the battlefield victorious. To live to see another day is a victory in itself."

Farram's words lingered in Ornstein's mind long after his Lord went to sleep. Sitting cross legged on the ground he sipped on a cup of ginger tea while he watched the campfire. Occasionally he would glance down into his mug, his reflection gazing back thoughtfully at him. The bloodied gash over his eye was now a thin, barely visible line. His hand idly went to it as a small smile crossed his face. He turned his head suddenly as his Lord began mumbling gibberish in his sleep, an idiotic grin plastered on his face. "What am I to do with you?" Ornstein sighed quietly as he shook his head. "What would I do without you?" He whispered. He quietly prayed that he'd never have to find out.


End file.
